[ He's beating around it and by now, it's enough to get Jayce's thin strand of patience to snap. As if talking about trust made it any clearer, no— how could he be one to talk about trust right now? ]
Stop, [ Playing dumb doesn't look good on Viktor, but Jayce is starting to lack the coherency to bite, which— may be for the best, even if the source of it was an unmatched squall of anxiety. It's not difficult to just tell him, and the why he doesn't just say something alarms (and aggravates) the drake far more than soothe him. He pushes forward instead, to take a look at the bundle with scrutiny that scrunches his nose. He doesn't need to touch it, no, just look. And think. and look at Viktor, up and down. Sideways. Notice, immediately. And connect.
The hexclaw was gone. That hanging piece of metal limb on Viktor's back is gone. A lean sideways, hand on his arm, and only silence fills the space between them. Silence that grows too pregnant, especially when Jayce's breathing hitches into a pause as a realization settles in that twists the look on his face.
Rather than pinched with anger, Jayce's features fall, his brows crease up— as if he's taken a slap to the cheek. He's the first to take a step back. Viktor certainly couldn't have done that alone. Piece after piece slots into the bigger picture, and quickly, Jayce's miffed indignation is replaced with disbelief— with mourning. It warps his voice into an audible waver. ]
. . . We promised. No hiding things. No half-truths. [ What's worse to accompany Jayce's now sunken eyes are tucked ears— and pale-blue scales. The angry fire in the color of them all has been drained to near grey values. ] And you . . . Hid this? From me?
[ The one person who was quite possibly, completely, wholeheartedly adept in removing it if it was a burden? The one who would be okay with it? The first one, even? You didn't trust me hits harder to Jayce's heart in silence that he doesn't have to say it. It is quite a different sort of pain he feels, but their Tether proves it by a mirror— this has hurt. ]
[ Viktor, despite the many inches he has on Jayce, suddenly feels like the smallest person in the world. He manages to keep his posture straight up until Jayce angles around him, Viktor holding still rather than attempting to hide, and then slumps forward when it's obvious that he can't hide the evidence of what he'd done. The pain hits him through their tether like a physical strike that leaves him vibrating with the aftershock, but he wouldn't need that insight to Jayce's emotions to know how he's feeling at the moment. He deserves an explanation, even if it's one that he may not accept. ]
I'm tired, Jayce. [ He wants to desperately to fold into himself, to kneel on the cold ground and hug his chest to his knees and disappear. It's strange how so much of his life was spent fighting for recognition, for someone to notice him, but as soon as those watching eyes turn angry or sad, he wants to disappear. ] I'm so tired of other people, outside forces, having power over my body. And I was tired of dragging it around like a reminder of what I became.
[ It's hard to look at Jayce in the moment, because of course Viktor knows that he'd done wrong. They had talked about not keeping secrets, and even if he'd had good intentions behind his, maybe it had been a pipe dream to imagine he could do something for Jayce, that he could be enough for him without the collaboration of their partnership. The tell-tale scales on Jayce's face should be vibrantly red with anger, but instead they turn sallow and sad, his tail and ears falling limp, all of the fight visibly draining from his body.
Bowing his head, Viktor gives in to the urge to kneel, tucking both legs beneath himself and even if it's so tempting to keep going, folding and folding and folding, he sits somewhat straight. The bundle is no longer half-hidden, held in both hands as he offers it up to Jayce as the fabric falls away to reveal the detached hexclax. He tries to meet Jayce's gaze, but unable to catch it, he tilts his head in repentance instead. ]
I wanted to use it to make you a new brace, or at least... [ He sees now that he never would have gotten to that point, but maybe he could have broken down the limb into useable pieces before presenting them to Jayce. ] The metal is strong but flexible, unlike anything we could forge here.
[ Jayce was not expecting to be emotionally disarmed, this way. Bracing for another wave of an argument, but then . . . The hexclaw is presented to him, the truth toiling out, and the floor pulled right out from under him. He simply stands there for a moment longer as Viktor crumbles, raw and worn— bruised, just as this has done to him. The Tether hums low and raw, grief bleeding both ways, a shared pulse that will not let Jayce look away.
His fingers flex as his breathes in, swallows, feels his throat and nose burn, their bond pulled taught enough to strum when played, like an instrument, though not exactly tuned. Silence eats away at them both, and at last, Jayce takes his utmost time to join Viktor on the floor— Good leg first, crutch for support, all before allowing his knees to give, and his current brace to click away. His fall is hardly graceful, much like horses are when they drop themselves down to the earth. With hovering hands and a tied tongue, Jayce's tail soon begins to coil around his shins and against Viktor's own, almost as if to protect something fragile within him.
Tears collect at the rim of his eyelids before the shine gives him away after just a few blinks. Every evening passed in silence, every reminder and discomfort swallowed down raw. Jayce never said anything about it strictly because it was Viktor's body, and his agency that he once removed from him, then the Hexcore. But did he truly feel like he had to be alone in it? That he was still not worthy of his trust? It hurts. He thought . . .
The first thing he cradles is not the metal, but his partner's wrist. He chooses proximity as an olive branch, but not a quick fix. True to his feelings, Jayce is still hurt, and he could not erase the dent secrecy has caused, and that is not counting the anxiety separation has caused.
But his love is stronger. flickering and constant like an everlasting candlelight. Remorse trickles through, guilt for his outburst when he was part of the problem— who once made the choice of Viktor's body for him. He understands it, now, when he dwells on his own quiet, his own thoughts as his palms cradle Viktor's hand— but that does not heal the contusion the secret has caused.
Perhaps it just made it sting more. ]
You took something painful for you . . . And made it into something beautiful, [ His voice wavers, his other hand finally pressing into the fabric and sleek metal frame of the hexclaw. that's Viktor. That's a literal part of him that brought sorrow, and— it was to be reshaped into something so much better. It was going to be made to fit him. His hold on Viktor cups the top of his hand, firms it over fabric, ] for me.
[ His words soften around the edges, and his doe eyes, round and large and pooling, ask rather than accuse, unable to mask the tremble: ]
Why did it still feel easier for you to do it alone?
[ Time slows and draws out as he waits for a reaction—an accepting sigh or an explosive dismissal, whatever Jayce may have in store for him. Viktor can feel their tether tense between them, pulled at like heartstrings plucked by the fingers of fate. It's a ballad, an ode to a scientist's stupidity and the selfishness of a man so exhausted by the lack of control over his own body that he's swung too far in the opposite direction. There are no misconceptions in Viktor that he's a good person, nothing that can deny how idiotic he's been or the ironic selfishness fueled by powerlessness.
It's only the sound of movement that draws Viktor's eye back up to Jayce in time to watch him begin to kneel there with him on the cold stone threshold of the museum, far from his intention of lowering his own towering height beneath that of his partner's. Every fiber in him is ready to stop him before he puts added stress on his leg, every muscle ready to drop his cargo to catch Jayce should he waver or fall. Viktor stays still, silent, trusting the man before him not to do something that will hurt him—a difficult thing to do, given how reckless Jayce tends to be, acting on emotion despite all of the logic he seems to reserve for science alone. His tail seems to be a saving grace as it helps him balance and then starts to snake between them.
He feels the hurt through their tether, sees the tears wetting Jayce's wide hazel eyes, and it clicks. Viktor had been so worried about burdening Jayce with his pain and wanting to do something to elevate his own that he had failed to think of what the secrecy would look like. It had been easier to get wrapped up in people asking But is Jayce okay with this? and saying You should really tell Jayce and insisting he Think about telling Jayce before we start that he'd lost sight of the real motivation for all of this in the first place.
Nearly jumping at the touch, so tense that it's difficult not to react at the warmth instantly searing his hand, he meets Jayce's watery gaze with his unblinking eye as golden tears of his own start to slide down his metal cheek. ]
For you. [ That's the important part, since he failed to do any of the actual making and he's uncertain of the beauty of such actions. He'd intended for it to be a gift, something to lighten the load on Jayce's back that's come from the need to build and forge and source the materials to make suitable metal for a new brace, all while struggling to stand with the old one. It's been too long, and Viktor only wishes he'd made more progress in less time. ]
I didn't want to burden you. [ It's the truth, the core of it—if he had asked Jayce to do the amputation, there was the risk that he'd be uncomfortable doing so but push through for Viktor's sake. If it had ended up causing incredible pain, the kind that even Viktor's stoic form couldn't hide, something that would have instantly bled into their tether without any distance to mute it, he knows that Jayce would have felt guilty beyond measure. He can't say it, can't explain how far back this goes, but he doesn't want Jayce to bear the weight of both triggering this transformation and also having to help Viktor manage the consequences. ] I wanted... I really didn't think you would notice before I had time to make something worth showing you.
[ All Jayce does is listen, now. Direct his attention clearly, despite the rippling emotion that makes him snort and blink, wipe away at anything that falls on his cheeks to glisten his scales. A golden drop trickles from the cracks of Viktor's broken mask, and part of Jayce wishes to wipe it away before it reached the curvature of his chin, conduit be damned.
He sighs, slumping shoulders and firming both hands on top of Viktor's to reassure him. ]
I notice, Viktor. I notice you every waking moment of the day. I even— [ at the same time he thinks it, his tongue wets his lips— he doesn't even mean to, but it comes anyway. taste. He could even taste, or smell him, where he was and who he was with and if he bled or was stressed or— or some weird reptile in between that has him clamping his jaws shut and thinking twice. The implication . . . Jayce pauses and shakes it away, as if it were an unimportant extra that would just sting more, for no reason other than amplification. They don't need that. They just need this resolved. ] nevermind.
[ Feels a little too intimate now, too vulnerable just to spill out and confess into the fresh, tender bruising of being secretive. They knew his changes. That was enough. ]
I would've been . . . Honored, to share this with you. I'd prove that— I could do things differently.
[ What's hurting the most is that– Viktor's actions, no matter their intentions, made Jayce feel like he still wasn't worthy of that chance. That he blew his shots the day he decided to merge him, or perhaps as early as their spat on the bridge between Zaun and Piltover.
His credibility has never recovered. And would it, ever?
Jayce leans forward, not unkike the way they'd press their foreheads together, but he doesn’t breach Viktor's space to do so. his rack of crystal-cut antlers branch into the pale blue moonlight, much brighter than his scales— and he shakes his head, defeated. ]
You are never a burden to me. You're . . . So much more than that.
[ The part that hurts is that Viktor should know all of this. For years, Jayce was the only one to notice him, his passion and intelligence and ambition. His illness and disability, though he looked past both. Yet there had been so much damage done between them in so short a time when Jayce had abandoned Viktor in his hour of need, focused on Hextech and becoming Councilor and a romance with Mel. Viktor had been alone in their lab, cutting runes into his skin and being seduced by the arcane, and his only friend and ally had been courting the kind of people who wished to see their inventions used to kill people rather than help them.
I even, and Viktor almost imagines him saying it, words he wishes for and also dreads hearing. He doesn't deserve them, not least because he's still working on the trust but also doesn't deserve to be lied to only to ensure he stays. Viktor would die if Jayce used affection as a cage, if they ended up right back in that lab moments after he was brought back to life because this man was unable to let him go on his own terms.
Even now, it kills him a little to hear Jayce asserting that he would have liked to be part of something that Viktor wanted to do on his own. He still wishes he would have been able to operate on himself instead of seeking help from someone, and as kind and careful as Caelus had been, it had ultimately felt more like a service than a favor. That's what Viktor had needed, the detachment of the limb in body and spirit, divorcing it from himself wholly without the reminder of how Jayce might have reacted, hesitated, refused to continue at the slightest discomfort in their tether. ]
I didn't want to risk hurting you. [ He sighs at himself and how difficult words could be compared to equations, numbers always adding up in expected ways instead of the connotation that words could carry apart from their intended use. ] Really hurt you, with our tether. I see now that I hurt you in other ways instead.
[ That hurt is still leaking through their connection, bleeding into the space where Viktor's heart would be and clenching his chest tight. It's all imagined—he doesn't have a physical heart to ache—and yet it smarts so painfully that he flinches slightly at Jayce's words. ] Jayce, I'm the reason you went through hell and broke your leg, the reason you were ready to die. How can that not be a burden?
[ Jayce blinks; part disbelief, part . . . Understanding, Because at his worst he knows he's been in the same spot, thinking similarly even if only for moments— But not this Viktor. Not his Viktor. If anything he at times would question why the Mage hadn't done anything to help him, wondering for how long his entire life was built on walking with puppet strings attached to his limbs.
But . . .
Something clicks, quite suddenly for Jayce. And perhaps it should have long before. The Way Jayce's eyes go wide, the way he presses lips left slightly agape, the way he shakes his head in silence, and brushes his thumbs across the top of Viktor's hand as he holds them from both sides, now, fingers curling around the back of his palm. ]
Viktor . . . You didn't push me down that ravine. I fell. I, [ Another shake, another slight slant of his brows, and with a shharp breath out, embarrassed and almost incredulous, ] tripped. My own making hurt me.
[ And that, perhaps, truly was something he had to get out of on his own. His mess, his fix. And Jayce would figure a way out, he always would. He was a fixer. A hammer with a nail in his line of sights. What better solution to the destruction of his own hands than turning them into auxilliary, aiding tools? Going back to what he's always wanted his creations to be about to put that massive error behind him. As for . . . Being ready to die, it takes a moment longer for Jayce to catch up to it, his breathing harder against the up and down of his chest, but not labored.
He needs close eye contact for this to hit. He looks hard and long, in the singular globe of the glow behind Viktor's mask, and replies quite easily, shifting the seat he has on his legs and leaning forward: ]
It's no burden because there's no me without you. [ The burden lies in continuing, without that glaring other half of him. There's just . . . No reason to. Jayce would feel hollow without him. ] And you're no stranger to that.
[ Contimplating his jump from his apartment's ledge, his reason was the same, the true identity of his dream and love hidden behind the flare and wonder of magic. Magic, his light. Magic, his greatest curiosity. Magic, the man who saved him. Not once. Not twice. ]
[ Jayce looks like he's had an epiphany, but Viktor can't follow his logic. He'd seen what happened to Jayce in that strange world, the future that might have been, that felt so eternal and yet also existed as a liminal maybe for them. Viktor hadn't pushed Jayce down that ravine, but a version of him had corralled him towards it, left him to rot as the arcane ate away at his body and soul. ]
I— He— You ended up in that world because of me, and you suffered there because of him. Even after you got yourself out, he tasked you with something so... painful.
[ His mind is racing trying to follow Jayce's logic, and then it all screeches to a halt with a few simple words. There's no me without you. Does he know how that sounds? How it makes hope flutter in Viktor's chest? How unfair it is to dangle something so sweet in front of a man starved of affection from the only person who's ever made him hungry for it? He needs to reinterpret the idea before it takes root in him and festers into a wicked selfishness, twisting Jayce's naive olive branch into gnarled roots of covetous lust within Viktor.
They're partners. Viktor had saved Jayce's life as much as the roles had reversed later. Hextech would not have existed without Viktor's willingness to risk everything for the passionate fire in Jayce's eyes. He's no stranger to it, yet it takes him by surprise every time. ]
And there's no me without you, Jayce. [ It's difficult to be reminded how inextricably they're linked when Viktor has told himself time and time again to keep enough distance to not ruin it all. He sighs again, worn out, and leans close to press their foreheads together. His hands sag into Jayce's, heavy with the hexclaw and a burden he needs to learn to share. ]
[ Just hearing the words back was— enough. Jayce holds a breath before sighing, then leaning into the weight put before him. He shakes his head too, but just enough to reinforce what he felt about that without jostling their heads around: no. No, no and no. No, he murmurs back, not tdying invalidate anything, just— he doesn't believe it.
He's here with him, now. He's not going anywhere. And, perhaps, as Jayce realizes after wetting his lips— Viktor need to get a better taste on him. One that's 100% like home. His throat scrapes sound when he attempts to speak, the crack in it either from underuse or an earlier escape of emotion. ]
. . I'm sorry I snapped. [ The brunt of said snapping is starting to weigh heavy, now; he feels like he's been hit by a truck, flatbed, twelve wheels. He wants Viktor close, to be sure he wouldn't go far enough that Jayce could even fret. Encircled by his tail in a sneaky spiral around him, Jayce wants nothing more than to burrow into his own coils, larger than this current body could provide, on a bed of gemstones and with Viktor, right in the middle of it all— claws embracing his frame and snout to his belly and tongue to metal like the most precious gem of them all. Maybe that was wrong, but it's become stronger than Jayce's common sense. Much stronger. Because of this waking imagination, Jayce stumbles on his own words, awkward, silent stutters filling the void of his silence. At least the color is seeping back to his cheeks, rosey magentas and sapphire blues. ] I was— Worried. It, um— escalated. Fast.
[ Not an excuse, just an explanation. It does not banish his own upset yet, either— it is still there, like a wound needing to be licked. A gift for a time when they were at favorable synchrony. This, this now only feels like fatigue, disappointment, yearning, and defeat. ]
Everytime you disappear, it . . . Feels like I'll lose you again.
[ Like this empty, yawning crater inside him, begging to be filled, expands so horridly it could pull anything into its core and dismantle it. Like a black hole. ]
[ There's so much being left unsaid on both sides, but the important part is that they work through the here and now before worrying about anything else. Viktor has nothing but time to think through his feelings and how they often lead him to overcorrecting, protecting himself from harm at the risk of putting Jayce in front of him like an unwitting shield. If this is going to work, if they're going to survive without tearing themselves apart, then Viktor needs to learn how to be in love with Jayce while still being his closest companion and partner. ]
You had every right. I shouldn't have kept this from you. [ Even if part of the reason for secrecy had been an attempt to mitigate pain, and the remaining factors had to do with hoping to surprise Jayce with a gift, he sees now that it was too big of a secret to keep. ] I still think it's important we can be independent, though. Privacy and the chance to surprise each other, in small ways.
[ No excuses, just vague boundaries they can solidify later. Viktor doesn't think he really needs them as much as Jayce does, catch that he is—if he has a dream paramour as Viktor suspects, he needs the freedom to stay far away from that mine field.
That sinking feeling in his stomach and clenching at his chest. Guilt chokes him again because he knows has disappeared before in order to take care of his own needs. Indignation follows, however, at Jayce leaving him alone at times, a feeling quickly squashed because they can't be focused on holding grudges from the past. This is a fresh start, in many ways, and it means rebuilding trust with whatever they can find. ]
I told you, I'm not going anywhere. You have to meet me halfway with the trusting, Jayce.
[ Jayce goes through gentle motions of agreement; wordless nods, murmured yeahs that are whispered more than they invite further discussion. He knows that's all correct. He knows his trust must be a stronghold, too. He thought it had been, up until the point where he smelled secrecy. But he too, knows, now that he's calmed, that feeding into the hungry possession in him scares his still human half. ]
I don't . . . Want you to feel like you can't— Like we can't. Just— [ They could. They totally could. The easiest way to avoid a nerve flare up? The tip of his furred tail flips, flops back and forth. ] Let me know that you're alright. Let me in, if you're hurting.
[ Then, perhaps, they could do what they did best. Solve things, which, outside the lab and into a relationship, it felt like a completely different beast they've failed at. ]
Give me the chance to prove I'm not the man I used to be.
[ On one hand, he feels too broken for that. On the other— he's never felt so sure, or even better, that the mantal doesn't fit him anymore, even if he tried to throw it on. Even if Jayce was the kind of man to be good at nearly anything given to him if he had reason to give it his all— it was not part of his roots. It was not part of his character at all. It pushed him even farther away from who he was.
For better or for worse, he catches himself thinking, intrusive and unwanting. Was that part of the reason, for his doubts? ]
[ The more that Jayce's tail wraps around them, flicking at the tip and waving the beautifully colored fur around, the more Viktor wants to calm it with a hand. He wouldn't pull away from Jayce's embrace to do it, though, wouldn't risk jostling the layers of hexclaw and hands and tether that's strengthening with each word. ]
I'm alright. [ Shaking his head a little, the movement resulting in him nuzzling their foreheads together, Viktor lets out a sigh of exhaust. ] But I'm quite used to suffering in silence. It may take practice to break the habit.
[ After all, it had taken a public collapse and waking up to Jayce as his bedside for him to finally admit how far his disease had progressed. For so long, Viktor had been alone in his struggles and his ambitions, and so reminding himself that there was one person in the universe who cared about him as more than just a resource or a tool was... new.
It hurts to hear Jayce say he's not the same man he had been before. Viktor had fallen for that optimistic, naive, passionate younger version of Jayce who spoke of harnessing magic with a spark in his eye. He's been handsome because of his physical flaws rather than in spite of them, as clean cut as his ideals, the perfect poster boy for progress. Now, he was just as beautiful, rugged in a way that Viktor could have never imagined him, but... broken. Broken because of Viktor. There are beauty in imperfections, but that doesn't give him the right to admire the ones he caused. ]
There was nothing wrong with the man you were, Jayce. [ Pulling his hands away, leaving the hexclaw resting in Jayce's palms, he moves instead to gently grasp both of his shoulders. ] We should finish this talk inside, I won't have you getting cold and stiff because I was a fool.
[ Jayce's brows rise and fall as he keeps his head tucked low, whether he'd been pressing in further with his forehead or simply hanging after the fact. His mistakes are what had haunted him the most, plenty of times they still visit him in the pits of his nightmares. His flaws felt the worst now that he looks back at them, it's difficult to imagine there was nothing wrong with the man of progress when, simply, there was— part of him misses the whimsy that came with those times. He hardly has the same amount cooked into him, only reserved for the calmest of moments between them.
Still. Did that mean Viktor missed the way he used to be? Oh, how tired he was to keep thinking things that exhaust him— quietly, his raises his shoulders, thick with furs. ]
I've got some layers on me, [ He'd be a liar though, if he completely disregarded the invitation. If he's not going to sleep, or look at the sky, maybe they could check on his minerals. ] but I won't say no to a roof over our heads.
[ After all, Jayce would always prefer indoor weather rather than outdoor, especially during winter weather. Once he's gotten through a thoughtful pause, Jayce begins his journey from sitting to standing: a slow process, likely needing aid, but once he's up straight on his own feet and crutch, after a moment of gathering his weight, Jayce moves, waiting for Viktor to accompany him closely. ]
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Stop, [ Playing dumb doesn't look good on Viktor, but Jayce is starting to lack the coherency to bite, which— may be for the best, even if the source of it was an unmatched squall of anxiety. It's not difficult to just tell him, and the why he doesn't just say something alarms (and aggravates) the drake far more than soothe him. He pushes forward instead, to take a look at the bundle with scrutiny that scrunches his nose. He doesn't need to touch it, no, just look. And think. and look at Viktor, up and down. Sideways. Notice, immediately. And connect.
The hexclaw was gone. That hanging piece of metal limb on Viktor's back is gone. A lean sideways, hand on his arm, and only silence fills the space between them. Silence that grows too pregnant, especially when Jayce's breathing hitches into a pause as a realization settles in that twists the look on his face.
Rather than pinched with anger, Jayce's features fall, his brows crease up— as if he's taken a slap to the cheek. He's the first to take a step back. Viktor certainly couldn't have done that alone. Piece after piece slots into the bigger picture, and quickly, Jayce's miffed indignation is replaced with disbelief— with mourning. It warps his voice into an audible waver. ]
. . . We promised. No hiding things. No half-truths. [ What's worse to accompany Jayce's now sunken eyes are tucked ears— and pale-blue scales. The angry fire in the color of them all has been drained to near grey values. ] And you . . . Hid this? From me?
[ The one person who was quite possibly, completely, wholeheartedly adept in removing it if it was a burden? The one who would be okay with it? The first one, even? You didn't trust me hits harder to Jayce's heart in silence that he doesn't have to say it. It is quite a different sort of pain he feels, but their Tether proves it by a mirror— this has hurt. ]
And you want to lecture me about trust?
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I'm tired, Jayce. [ He wants to desperately to fold into himself, to kneel on the cold ground and hug his chest to his knees and disappear. It's strange how so much of his life was spent fighting for recognition, for someone to notice him, but as soon as those watching eyes turn angry or sad, he wants to disappear. ] I'm so tired of other people, outside forces, having power over my body. And I was tired of dragging it around like a reminder of what I became.
[ It's hard to look at Jayce in the moment, because of course Viktor knows that he'd done wrong. They had talked about not keeping secrets, and even if he'd had good intentions behind his, maybe it had been a pipe dream to imagine he could do something for Jayce, that he could be enough for him without the collaboration of their partnership. The tell-tale scales on Jayce's face should be vibrantly red with anger, but instead they turn sallow and sad, his tail and ears falling limp, all of the fight visibly draining from his body.
Bowing his head, Viktor gives in to the urge to kneel, tucking both legs beneath himself and even if it's so tempting to keep going, folding and folding and folding, he sits somewhat straight. The bundle is no longer half-hidden, held in both hands as he offers it up to Jayce as the fabric falls away to reveal the detached hexclax. He tries to meet Jayce's gaze, but unable to catch it, he tilts his head in repentance instead. ]
I wanted to use it to make you a new brace, or at least... [ He sees now that he never would have gotten to that point, but maybe he could have broken down the limb into useable pieces before presenting them to Jayce. ] The metal is strong but flexible, unlike anything we could forge here.
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His fingers flex as his breathes in, swallows, feels his throat and nose burn, their bond pulled taught enough to strum when played, like an instrument, though not exactly tuned. Silence eats away at them both, and at last, Jayce takes his utmost time to join Viktor on the floor— Good leg first, crutch for support, all before allowing his knees to give, and his current brace to click away. His fall is hardly graceful, much like horses are when they drop themselves down to the earth. With hovering hands and a tied tongue, Jayce's tail soon begins to coil around his shins and against Viktor's own, almost as if to protect something fragile within him.
Tears collect at the rim of his eyelids before the shine gives him away after just a few blinks. Every evening passed in silence, every reminder and discomfort swallowed down raw. Jayce never said anything about it strictly because it was Viktor's body, and his agency that he once removed from him, then the Hexcore. But did he truly feel like he had to be alone in it? That he was still not worthy of his trust? It hurts. He thought . . .
The first thing he cradles is not the metal, but his partner's wrist. He chooses proximity as an olive branch, but not a quick fix. True to his feelings, Jayce is still hurt, and he could not erase the dent secrecy has caused, and that is not counting the anxiety separation has caused.
But his love is stronger. flickering and constant like an everlasting candlelight. Remorse
trickles through, guilt for his outburst when he was part of the problem— who once made the choice of Viktor's body for him. He understands it, now, when he dwells on his own quiet, his own thoughts as his palms cradle Viktor's hand— but that does not heal the contusion the secret has caused.
Perhaps it just made it sting more. ]
You took something painful for you . . . And made it into something beautiful, [ His voice wavers, his other hand finally pressing into the fabric and sleek metal frame of the hexclaw. that's Viktor. That's a literal part of him that brought sorrow, and— it was to be reshaped into something so much better. It was going to be made to fit him. His hold on Viktor cups the top of his hand, firms it over fabric, ] for me.
[ His words soften around the edges, and his doe eyes, round and large and pooling, ask rather than accuse, unable to mask the tremble: ]
Why did it still feel easier for you to do it alone?
[ Jayce realizes, he's afraid of the answer. ]
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It's only the sound of movement that draws Viktor's eye back up to Jayce in time to watch him begin to kneel there with him on the cold stone threshold of the museum, far from his intention of lowering his own towering height beneath that of his partner's. Every fiber in him is ready to stop him before he puts added stress on his leg, every muscle ready to drop his cargo to catch Jayce should he waver or fall. Viktor stays still, silent, trusting the man before him not to do something that will hurt him—a difficult thing to do, given how reckless Jayce tends to be, acting on emotion despite all of the logic he seems to reserve for science alone. His tail seems to be a saving grace as it helps him balance and then starts to snake between them.
He feels the hurt through their tether, sees the tears wetting Jayce's wide hazel eyes, and it clicks. Viktor had been so worried about burdening Jayce with his pain and wanting to do something to elevate his own that he had failed to think of what the secrecy would look like. It had been easier to get wrapped up in people asking But is Jayce okay with this? and saying You should really tell Jayce and insisting he Think about telling Jayce before we start that he'd lost sight of the real motivation for all of this in the first place.
Nearly jumping at the touch, so tense that it's difficult not to react at the warmth instantly searing his hand, he meets Jayce's watery gaze with his unblinking eye as golden tears of his own start to slide down his metal cheek. ]
For you. [ That's the important part, since he failed to do any of the actual making and he's uncertain of the beauty of such actions. He'd intended for it to be a gift, something to lighten the load on Jayce's back that's come from the need to build and forge and source the materials to make suitable metal for a new brace, all while struggling to stand with the old one. It's been too long, and Viktor only wishes he'd made more progress in less time. ]
I didn't want to burden you. [ It's the truth, the core of it—if he had asked Jayce to do the amputation, there was the risk that he'd be uncomfortable doing so but push through for Viktor's sake. If it had ended up causing incredible pain, the kind that even Viktor's stoic form couldn't hide, something that would have instantly bled into their tether without any distance to mute it, he knows that Jayce would have felt guilty beyond measure. He can't say it, can't explain how far back this goes, but he doesn't want Jayce to bear the weight of both triggering this transformation and also having to help Viktor manage the consequences. ] I wanted... I really didn't think you would notice before I had time to make something worth showing you.
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He sighs, slumping shoulders and firming both hands on top of Viktor's to reassure him. ]
I notice, Viktor. I notice you every waking moment of the day. I even— [ at the same time he thinks it, his tongue wets his lips— he doesn't even mean to, but it comes anyway. taste. He could even taste, or smell him, where he was and who he was with and if he bled or was stressed or— or some weird reptile in between that has him clamping his jaws shut and thinking twice. The implication . . . Jayce pauses and shakes it away, as if it were an unimportant extra that would just sting more, for no reason other than amplification. They don't need that. They just need this resolved. ] nevermind.
[ Feels a little too intimate now, too vulnerable just to spill out and confess into the fresh, tender bruising of being secretive. They knew his changes. That was enough. ]
I would've been . . . Honored, to share this with you. I'd prove that— I could do things differently.
[ What's hurting the most is that– Viktor's actions, no matter their intentions, made Jayce feel like he still wasn't worthy of that chance. That he blew his shots the day he decided to merge him, or perhaps as early as their spat on the bridge between Zaun and Piltover.
His credibility has never recovered. And would it, ever?
Jayce leans forward, not unkike the way they'd press their foreheads together, but he doesn’t breach Viktor's space to do so. his rack of crystal-cut antlers branch into the pale blue moonlight, much brighter than his scales— and he shakes his head, defeated. ]
You are never a burden to me. You're . . . So much more than that.
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I even, and Viktor almost imagines him saying it, words he wishes for and also dreads hearing. He doesn't deserve them, not least because he's still working on the trust but also doesn't deserve to be lied to only to ensure he stays. Viktor would die if Jayce used affection as a cage, if they ended up right back in that lab moments after he was brought back to life because this man was unable to let him go on his own terms.
Even now, it kills him a little to hear Jayce asserting that he would have liked to be part of something that Viktor wanted to do on his own. He still wishes he would have been able to operate on himself instead of seeking help from someone, and as kind and careful as Caelus had been, it had ultimately felt more like a service than a favor. That's what Viktor had needed, the detachment of the limb in body and spirit, divorcing it from himself wholly without the reminder of how Jayce might have reacted, hesitated, refused to continue at the slightest discomfort in their tether. ]
I didn't want to risk hurting you. [ He sighs at himself and how difficult words could be compared to equations, numbers always adding up in expected ways instead of the connotation that words could carry apart from their intended use. ] Really hurt you, with our tether. I see now that I hurt you in other ways instead.
[ That hurt is still leaking through their connection, bleeding into the space where Viktor's heart would be and clenching his chest tight. It's all imagined—he doesn't have a physical heart to ache—and yet it smarts so painfully that he flinches slightly at Jayce's words. ] Jayce, I'm the reason you went through hell and broke your leg, the reason you were ready to die. How can that not be a burden?
cw: touching up on some past suicide implications
But . . .
Something clicks, quite suddenly for Jayce. And perhaps it should have long before. The Way Jayce's eyes go wide, the way he presses lips left slightly agape, the way he shakes his head in silence, and brushes his thumbs across the top of Viktor's hand as he holds them from both sides, now, fingers curling around the back of his palm. ]
Viktor . . . You didn't push me down that ravine. I fell. I, [ Another shake, another slight slant of his brows, and with a shharp breath out, embarrassed and almost incredulous, ] tripped. My own making hurt me.
[ And that, perhaps, truly was something he had to get out of on his own. His mess, his fix. And Jayce would figure a way out, he always would. He was a fixer. A hammer with a nail in his line of sights. What better solution to the destruction of his own hands than turning them into auxilliary, aiding tools? Going back to what he's always wanted his creations to be about to put that massive error behind him. As for . . . Being ready to die, it takes a moment longer for Jayce to catch up to it, his breathing harder against the up and down of his chest, but not labored.
He needs close eye contact for this to hit. He looks hard and long, in the singular globe of the glow behind Viktor's mask, and replies quite easily, shifting the seat he has on his legs and leaning forward: ]
It's no burden because there's no me without you. [ The burden lies in continuing, without that glaring other half of him. There's just . . . No reason to. Jayce would feel hollow without him. ] And you're no stranger to that.
[ Contimplating his jump from his apartment's ledge, his reason was the same, the true identity of his dream and love hidden behind the flare and wonder of magic. Magic, his light. Magic, his greatest curiosity. Magic, the man who saved him. Not once. Not twice. ]
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I— He— You ended up in that world because of me, and you suffered there because of him. Even after you got yourself out, he tasked you with something so... painful.
[ His mind is racing trying to follow Jayce's logic, and then it all screeches to a halt with a few simple words. There's no me without you. Does he know how that sounds? How it makes hope flutter in Viktor's chest? How unfair it is to dangle something so sweet in front of a man starved of affection from the only person who's ever made him hungry for it? He needs to reinterpret the idea before it takes root in him and festers into a wicked selfishness, twisting Jayce's naive olive branch into gnarled roots of covetous lust within Viktor.
They're partners. Viktor had saved Jayce's life as much as the roles had reversed later. Hextech would not have existed without Viktor's willingness to risk everything for the passionate fire in Jayce's eyes. He's no stranger to it, yet it takes him by surprise every time. ]
And there's no me without you, Jayce. [ It's difficult to be reminded how inextricably they're linked when Viktor has told himself time and time again to keep enough distance to not ruin it all. He sighs again, worn out, and leans close to press their foreheads together. His hands sag into Jayce's, heavy with the hexclaw and a burden he needs to learn to share. ]
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He's here with him, now. He's not going anywhere. And, perhaps, as Jayce realizes after wetting his lips— Viktor need to get a better taste on him. One that's 100% like home. His throat scrapes sound when he attempts to speak, the crack in it either from underuse or an earlier escape of emotion. ]
. . I'm sorry I snapped. [ The brunt of said snapping is starting to weigh heavy, now; he feels like he's been hit by a truck, flatbed, twelve wheels. He wants Viktor close, to be sure he wouldn't go far enough that Jayce could even fret. Encircled by his tail in a sneaky spiral around him, Jayce wants nothing more than to burrow into his own coils, larger than this current body could provide, on a bed of gemstones and with Viktor, right in the middle of it all— claws embracing his frame and snout to his belly and tongue to metal like the most precious gem of them all. Maybe that was wrong, but it's become stronger than Jayce's common sense. Much stronger. Because of this waking imagination, Jayce stumbles on his own words, awkward, silent stutters filling the void of his silence. At least the color is seeping back to his cheeks, rosey magentas and sapphire blues. ] I was— Worried. It, um— escalated. Fast.
[ Not an excuse, just an explanation. It does not banish his own upset yet, either— it is still there, like a wound needing to be licked. A gift for a time when they were at favorable synchrony. This, this now only feels like fatigue, disappointment, yearning, and defeat. ]
Everytime you disappear, it . . . Feels like I'll lose you again.
[ Like this empty, yawning crater inside him, begging to be filled, expands so horridly it could pull anything into its core and dismantle it. Like a black hole. ]
And I'll lose my mind in the process.
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You had every right. I shouldn't have kept this from you. [ Even if part of the reason for secrecy had been an attempt to mitigate pain, and the remaining factors had to do with hoping to surprise Jayce with a gift, he sees now that it was too big of a secret to keep. ] I still think it's important we can be independent, though. Privacy and the chance to surprise each other, in small ways.
[ No excuses, just vague boundaries they can solidify later. Viktor doesn't think he really needs them as much as Jayce does, catch that he is—if he has a dream paramour as Viktor suspects, he needs the freedom to stay far away from that mine field.
That sinking feeling in his stomach and clenching at his chest. Guilt chokes him again because he knows has disappeared before in order to take care of his own needs. Indignation follows, however, at Jayce leaving him alone at times, a feeling quickly squashed because they can't be focused on holding grudges from the past. This is a fresh start, in many ways, and it means rebuilding trust with whatever they can find. ]
I told you, I'm not going anywhere. You have to meet me halfway with the trusting, Jayce.
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I don't . . . Want you to feel like you can't— Like we can't. Just— [ They could. They totally could. The easiest way to avoid a nerve flare up? The tip of his furred tail flips, flops back and forth. ] Let me know that you're alright. Let me in, if you're hurting.
[ Then, perhaps, they could do what they did best. Solve things, which, outside the lab and into a relationship, it felt like a completely different beast they've failed at. ]
Give me the chance to prove I'm not the man I used to be.
[ On one hand, he feels too broken for that. On the other— he's never felt so sure, or even better, that the mantal doesn't fit him anymore, even if he tried to throw it on. Even if Jayce was the kind of man to be good at nearly anything given to him if he had reason to give it his all— it was not part of his roots. It was not part of his character at all. It pushed him even farther away from who he was.
For better or for worse, he catches himself thinking, intrusive and unwanting. Was that part of the reason, for his doubts? ]
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I'm alright. [ Shaking his head a little, the movement resulting in him nuzzling their foreheads together, Viktor lets out a sigh of exhaust. ] But I'm quite used to suffering in silence. It may take practice to break the habit.
[ After all, it had taken a public collapse and waking up to Jayce as his bedside for him to finally admit how far his disease had progressed. For so long, Viktor had been alone in his struggles and his ambitions, and so reminding himself that there was one person in the universe who cared about him as more than just a resource or a tool was... new.
It hurts to hear Jayce say he's not the same man he had been before. Viktor had fallen for that optimistic, naive, passionate younger version of Jayce who spoke of harnessing magic with a spark in his eye. He's been handsome because of his physical flaws rather than in spite of them, as clean cut as his ideals, the perfect poster boy for progress. Now, he was just as beautiful, rugged in a way that Viktor could have never imagined him, but... broken. Broken because of Viktor. There are beauty in imperfections, but that doesn't give him the right to admire the ones he caused. ]
There was nothing wrong with the man you were, Jayce. [ Pulling his hands away, leaving the hexclaw resting in Jayce's palms, he moves instead to gently grasp both of his shoulders. ] We should finish this talk inside, I won't have you getting cold and stiff because I was a fool.
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Still. Did that mean Viktor missed the way he used to be? Oh, how tired he was to keep thinking things that exhaust him— quietly, his raises his shoulders, thick with furs. ]
I've got some layers on me, [ He'd be a liar though, if he completely disregarded the invitation. If he's not going to sleep, or look at the sky, maybe they could check on his minerals. ] but I won't say no to a roof over our heads.
[ After all, Jayce would always prefer indoor weather rather than outdoor, especially during winter weather. Once he's gotten through a thoughtful pause, Jayce begins his journey from sitting to standing: a slow process, likely needing aid, but once he's up straight on his own feet and crutch, after a moment of gathering his weight, Jayce moves, waiting for Viktor to accompany him closely. ]
The forge might still be warm.